WSMTATMC C94

Chapter 94

Outside, night had already fallen, and the rain still poured without end.

The mountain was unsafe at night, and no one knew how high the waters below might rise.

Chen Xi gathered all the able-bodied men of the village—over sixty in all—dividing them into three teams to take shifts through the night.

A day of strain and fear had left everyone exhausted; some had already lain down, their snores rising and falling in waves.

Madam Li and Chen Rong were elderly—tired, yes, but unable to sleep, their hearts fixed on children far away.

Wang Ying lulled Yuanbao to sleep and placed him into Madam Li’s arms. “I’m stepping out for a moment—rest early, both of you.”

“Yes, go on.”

With so many people crammed into the cave, eating, drinking, and relieving themselves had become troublesome, so Wang Ying had ordered two makeshift latrines erected outside the cavern.

Men to the left, women and gē’er to the right; there was no need to worry about odor—the rain washed all away in no time.

In truth, Wang Ying intended to enter the experimental field. It was awkward to do so inside the cave, so he slipped out to a deserted spot and went in.

Inside, the field lay bathed in sun and mild air. On the table sat a note—likely just written by Chen Qingyan that day.

Wang Ying opened it—nothing urgent, merely a brief on daily life at the prefecture school. He lifted a brush to leave his own note in reply, assuring all was well at home.

Then he checked his stores. At the moment, he had three thousand three hundred jin of wheat in the system slots, and over one thousand seven hundred jin of millet; had he not exchanged for experience last time, it would likely be over ten thousand jin now.

This round of wheat in the plots was nearly ripe; once fully harvested, it would add another three thousand jin or so. There was no fear about food.

Before coming in, he had loaded all the household medicines into the field; he hadn’t yet had time to sort them. Such things were lifesavers—if sickness struck, acquiring more would be hard.

When he had finished tidying, Wang Ying hurried out. At the cave mouth he ran into the watchmen, who greeted him respectfully. “Greetings, Master.”

“You’ve toiled hard.”

“It’s nothing—our parents, wives, and children are inside. This is our duty.”

Wang Ying nodded and returned to the cavern, where the chorus of snores had merged into a single hum.

Qingyun and Lin Sui were asleep; Madam Li and Chen Rong, worried for Wang Ying, had remained awake, but fell into dozes once he came back.

Wang Ying tugged the quilt about himself, curled on the mat, and closed his eyes. He did not know how long had passed when a volley of curses jolted him awake.

“Damn your itching crotch—go rub it on a rock outside! You dare take liberties with me? I’ll beat you to death, you shameless cur!”

“Shut it, you foul-mouthed hag—don’t push your luck!”

Their shouting roused the crowd at once. Someone raised a torch—there stood Widow Qin and Song Ming, locked in a scuffle.

Chen Xi threw on a coat and stepped forward. “What’s going on?”

Widow Qin said, “He crept into my bedding while I was asleep!”

“Bull—when did I ever climb into your bedding?”

“Then how did my sash get untied by itself? You bastard! Think because I’ve no man at home I’m easy to bully? I’ll fight you to the end!” She snatched up a cudgel and swung at him.

Song Ming, relying on his size, wrenched the cudgel from her and swung it back. The others hurried to separate them.

Wang Ying, understanding the likely cause, rose and asked Song Ming, “Where were you sleeping?”

Song Ming swallowed. He pointed to an empty spot nearby.

Someone said, “Wasn’t Song Ming sleeping outside over there just now? His bundle is still there.”

Widow Qin spat. “Lying even in front of the Master—your gall is beyond measure!”

Seeing the lie exposed, Song Ming dropped to his knees. “I didn’t do anything—just…touched her twice.”

Chen Xi kicked him in fury. “At a time like this, that’s where your head is! Master—what shall we do with him?”

“Throw him out.”

“What?” Song Ming froze.

“Get out. You’re not staying in this cave.”

“Master, I was wrong. Have mercy…”

When he still did not move, Wang Ying signaled to several men. “Drive him out. He is not to enter again.”

Four or five men seized him at once, dragging him toward the entrance. He was notorious for petty theft in the village; most had long disliked him, and now, even at a time like this, he dared such filth.

Song Ming panicked. With rain like that, stepping out might mean death. “Master, spare me! Please!”

Even Chen Xi pleaded, “Master, perhaps wait until the rain stops—otherwise there’s nowhere outside to shelter…”

“Out!”

They flung Song Ming from the cave, tossing his bundle after him.

No one had expected the Master to be so unyielding; in an instant, all became more cautious, fearful of provoking him and being cast out.

Afterward, sleep would not come. Back at their sleeping place, Madam Li said anxiously, “In such rain, wasn’t the punishment too harsh?”

Wang Ying lowered his voice. “Rain like this won’t stop—if we don’t kill a chicken to warn the monkeys, this place will fall into chaos. We have widows and orphans with only Steward Chen and Guan to rely on—it won’t be enough.”

Madam Li’s heart lurched. “No…surely they won’t turn on each other at a time like this?”

“Who can say?”

In his former life, Wang Ying had seen too many films and books to trust human nature without proof.

For now, with food and shelter, harmony held. But if the rain did not stop and rations ran out, hunger would make men more fearsome than beasts.

—

By the Hour of Yin, dawn approached. Light filtered through the cave mouth, softening the darkness within.

The rain outside had slackened somewhat. People rose to catch water and cook.

Tian Niu and the others went down the mountain for a look, and when they returned, they reported, “Our estate’s become a river—can’t even see the roof-peaks anymore.”

A murmur of sighs. “We just finished our house last year—seventeen strings it cost. We planned to marry our son with it, and now—it’s gone.”

“Same here. Spent half a lifetime’s savings, and now it’s nothing.”

Chen Xi clucked around his pipe. “Can any of us be worse off than the Master? That courtyard was a beauty—and it’s gone just the same.”

Silence fell. This flood had leveled all grief—every home equally destroyed.

Soon the millet porridge was ready. The fragrant steam drove off a little sorrow as people lined up with bowls.

Wang Ying, with a conjurer’s sleight, slipped a boiled egg from his breast and passed it to his son.

There was little suitable food—children so small could not lack nutrition. Wang Ying had, at the last minute, boiled dozens of eggs from the storehouse and stashed them in the field, bringing out a few each day for his boy.

After breakfast, the women and gē’er gathered to chatter, voices rising and falling with talk of neighbors and kin.

Madam Li and Chen Rong fretted aloud about the three youths. “How are they now? With rain like this here, is there any in Laizhou?”

Chen Rong said, “It’s been so long—no letter either.”

Wang Ying suddenly remembered—tonight he must remind Chen Qingyan to send letters home. They left notes to each other daily, but the elders could not see them, and worry would gnaw.

Around the Hour of Chen, shouts and scolding erupted at the cave mouth. Chen Shun rushed in. “Master, Father—many people are outside—they want in out of the rain!”

Wang Ying started, rose at once, and followed him out.

Outside stood more than thirty men—villagers from the neighboring Zheng estate, among the few who had fled to the mountain; most of their village had been drowned by the flood.

One of them, who had hunted in these hills, recalled a cave and led the others in search. But the downpour and unfamiliar terrain had thwarted them yesterday.

They had no food or rain gear—cold, hungry, and desperate—when they ran into Song Ming, cast out from the cavern.

Song Ming had nearly given up hope, but at the sight of this crowd, a plan sprang to mind. “I know where there’s a cave—I’ll take you there! But after we find it, you must let me in!”

The leader, Zheng Qun, frowned. “If you knew where it was, why didn’t you shelter there, and why stay outside?”

“Oh, don’t ask! I was wronged, that’s all.” He twisted the truth, saying the widow had tried to seduce him; when spurned, she’d slandered him. The Master, he claimed, had cast him out without hearing the facts.

Zheng Qun said, “Don’t worry—lead us there, and we’ll see you sheltered.”

And so Song Ming led them to the cavern.

The sentries at the entrance naturally refused them. They weren’t from the same village, and inside were all the old, the weak, the women, and the children—if these men came in, what if trouble began?

Soon Wang Ying came out. In the crowd, he spotted Song Ming at once and swore silently.

“This cave is on Chen family land—our entire estate is mine; the cave is mine as well. What are you doing barging in?”

Zheng Qun stepped forward and bowed. “Master, forgive us. The rain outside is too fierce. We only beg shelter.”

Chen Xi said, “It’s not that we refuse you. The cave is full—there’s no space.”

Song Ming shouted, “There’s room! We can all fit, easy!”

Chen Xi’s gaze went cold. He had even pled for the man last night—and this ingrate dared betray them? He ought to be beaten to death with a cudgel!

At Zheng Qun’s gesture, the men moved forward again, edging toward the entrance.

Chen Xi barked, “Shun! Call out the men—I’d like to see who dares play rough before the Master!”

In moments, the estate’s men emerged, armed with hoes, mattocks, and sickles—over a hundred strong—driving Zheng Qun’s group back from the mouth of the cave.

They had thought there were only a few dozen inside and hoped to seize the place by force.

But to find the entire estate gathered within—clearly prepared, with tools in hand—made them think twice. In a real fight, they were no match.

From the back, someone muttered retreat. “Forget it—let’s find another shelter.”

Song Ming grew frantic. “No—you won’t find a better place than this!”

Zheng Qun shot him a glance. He wasn’t stupid—was he to gamble lives against a hundred men for a cave?

The group turned and headed deeper into the mountains. Song Ming stood stranded—going or staying seemed impossible—then, stamping his foot, he slunk after the Zheng villagers.